Soul of the Fire

A confusion of things were piled all over the table: bowls, candles, scrolls, books, jars, spheres, metal squares and triangles-there was even a skull. Other bigger objects sat cluttered around on the floor.

Morley reached for the skull. Fitch slapped his hand away.

"Don't touch nothing." Fitch pointed at the skull staring up at them. "That could be a wizard's skull, and if you touch it, it might come back to life. Wizards can do that, you know."

Morley yanked back his hand.

Fingers trembling, Fitch finally reached down and picked up the thing he'd come for. It looked just like he'd imagined it must look. The gold and silver work was as beautiful as anything Fitch had ever seen, and he'd seen a lot of fine gold and silver work at the Minister's estate. No Ander had anything to approach the beauty of this.

"That it?" Morley asked.

Fitch ran his fingers over the raised letters in the hilt. It was the one word he could read.

"This is it. The Sword of Truth."

Fitch felt rooted to that spot as he held the magnificent weapon, letting his fingers glide over the wire-wound hilt, the downswept cross guard, the finely wrought gold and silver scabbard. Even the leather baldric was beautifully made, feeling buttery soft between his finger and thumb.

"Well, if you're taking that," Morley said, "what do you think I can take?"

"Nothing," came a voice from behind them.

They both flinched and cried, out as one. Together, they spun around.

They both blinked at what they saw, hardly believing their eyes. It was a gorgeous blue-eyed blond woman in a red leather outfit that clung like a second skin. It showed her womanly shape to an extent Fitch had never seen. The low-cut dresses the Ander women wore showed the tops of their breasts, but this outfit, even though it covered everything, somehow seemed to show more. He could see her lean, well-defined muscles flexing as she strode toward them.

"That's not yours," the woman said. "Give it here before you boys get hurt."

Morley didn't like being called a boy anymore, at least not by some lone woman. Fitch could see his powerful muscles tense.

The woman put her fists on her hips. For a woman by herself with the two of them more than her match, she had a lot of nerve. Fitch didn't think he'd seen many women who could scowl as good as she could, but he wasn't really afraid. He was a man on his own, now, and he didn't have to answer to no one.

Fitch remembered how helpless Claudine Winthrop had been. He remembered how easy it was to hold her helpless. This was a woman, just like Claudine, no more.

"What are you two doing in here?" she asked.

"I guess we could ask you the same," Morley said.

She glared at him and then held her hand out to Fitch. "That doesn't belong to you." She waggled her fingers. "Hand it over before I lose my temper and I end up hurting you."

At the same instant, Fitch and-Morley bolted in opposite directions. The woman went for Fitch. Fitch tossed the sword to Morley. Morley, laughing, caught the sword, waving it at the woman, teasing her with it.

Fitch cut around her back and headed toward the door. She lunged for Morley. He tossed the sword over her head and outstretched arms.

The three of them raced across the sunken floor in the center of the room. She dove for Fitch and caught his leg, tripping him. As he went down, he heaved the sword to Morley.

She was up and running before Fitch could roll to his feet. Morley shouldered one of the white marble columns, toppling it across the red carpet before her. The bowl atop the column crashed to the floor, shattering into a thousand shards that skittered across the marble and carpet with a soft chiming, almost musical, tinkling sound.

"You two don't have any idea what you're doing!" she yelled. "Stop it at once! That isn't yours! This is no child's game! You've no right to touch anything in this place! You could be causing great harm! Stop it! Lives are at stake!"

She and Morley danced around the opposite sides of another column. When she lunged for him, he shoved the column toward her. She cried out when the heavy gold vase atop the column tumbled and hit her shoulder. Fitch didn't know if it was pain or rage that caused her to shout.

The three of them serpentined around the columns on both sides of the red carpet, heading ever closer to the door. Fitch and Morley tossed the sword back and forth between them, keeping her off guard. Fitch pushed over one of the columns to slow her and was- shocked at how heavy it was. The way Morley shoved them over Fitch had thought they would be easy to topple; they weren't, so he didn't try another.

She was yelling at them to stop destroying the priceless things of magic, but when Morley toppled the one with the inky black bottle atop it, she screamed. The column crashed down. The bottle tumbled through the air.

She dove across the floor, her long blond braid flying out behind as she hit and slid. The bottle bounced through her hands, flipping up, then hit the carpet and rolled, but it didn't break.